Chuck vs the Airsoft Gun
by Notorious JMG
Summary: An Evening With Morgan Pt. II gets a little extreme.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note:**__ this story takes place at some point between "Chuck vs. the Sandworm" (1x06) and "Chuck vs. the Truth" (1x08)._

* * *

"So, what do you think of The Dip?"

Chuck momentarily diverted his attention from the disassembled iPhone in front of him to see Morgan standing just outside the Nerd Herd desk. "The Dip?"

"Yeah, for an Evening with Morgan? Which you still owe me, by the way?"

"You want to go to Hollywood and Highland on a Friday night? Have you lost your mind?"

Morgan looked at Chuck like he'd lost his. "No, I'm not insane. I meant the one in the Valley. On Ventura Boulevard."

"Oh." Chuck felt a little silly for a moment. "Well, sure, I guess that would work."

Then he had a thought.

"You want me to drag Sarah and Ellie along on this, don't you?"

"But of course," Morgan replied. "And then… we shall engage in a Battle Royale."

"A Battle Royale?" Chuck's eyebrows shot up. "You mean… an Airsoft shootout?"

"Indeed, indeed," Morgan dramatically proclaimed. "And it shall be in no less a venue… than the Buy More Arena."

As Morgan swept his arm through a 180 degree arc, a look of consternation plastered itself on Chuck's face. "I… I don't know if that's such a good idea," he said.

Morgan dropped the dramatic look and a pissy look instead crossed his bearded mug. "Aw, come on, dude. It'll be great! You and Sarah vs. me and Ellie!"

_Sarah will destroy all of us_, Chuck thought. But he didn't say that, instead offering, "If Harry Tang finds so much as one Airsoft pellet, he'll nail us to the wall."

"So we'll clean up afterwards!" Morgan said, exasperation growing evident in his voice. "Come ON, Chuck! Don't back out on me again!"

"Alright, alright!" Chuck said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll talk to them, and I'm sure it'll be great!"

But in his mind, Chuck was saying, _We are so gonna get fired._

* * *

"Airsoft?" Sarah asked. "What exactly is that?"

"Well," Chuck said, "it's a gun, but it's not really a gun… it looks like a gun, except it's fake, and it fires a plastic pellet instead of a bullet."

"The point being…"

"Fun?" Chuck offered. "Come on, I told Morgan I would, and I do kinda owe him after the last time – and for that matter, you kinda owe him too, after the whole Ben Lo Pan business…"

Sarah looked at the ground and shook her head. "The things I agree to do…"

She looked up at Chuck. "Okay, so where do we find these Airsoft guns?"

"Right here!" Chuck proclaimed, looking upward to the towering red and white Sport Shack sign.

"Oh, joy," Sarah muttered, marching in through the front door.

Hungry looks and indeed a whistle or two followed Sarah as Chuck hurried to catch up with her. The Wienerlicious outfit she still had on was certainly attracting the wrong kind of attention, with each step toward the back of the store causing both her skirt and her pigtails to bounce in a way that had the clientele of Sport Shack drawn far, far away from their purchases.

She ignored all that, though, walking up to the counter where the Airsoft guns were kept. "I need to buy an Airsoft gun," she said.

"What kind?" asked the teenage boy behind the counter, giving Sarah an approving up-and-down as he did so.

"I need something as close to a real gun as you can give me," she said.

"Well," the boy said, bending down to open the case and taking the opportunity for a quick peek up Sarah's skirt, "this is the Walther PPK replica."

He handed the gun to Sarah. "It's got a weighted clip, quick fire action…"

"It's crap," Sarah said, handing it back. "I can tell just from looking at it, the trigger is weak and the sights suck. What else?"

"Uh, this is a replica police-issue Beretta 9 millimeter," he said, handing her another gun.

"Okay, this is better," she said. "It's better weighted, the trigger's strong, and the sights are aligned…"

She lined it up at a mirror, pulled back the slide – and said, "Forget it. The loading action is horrible. It'll misfire every other time. What else do you have?"

"We've got the big daddy," the kid said, turning around to open a box behind him. "This is a replica fifty caliber Desert Eagle."

Sarah took it from him. She simulated drawing it, popped the clip, reloaded. All the while, the kid just stared.

_He's gonna start drooling any minute_, Chuck though. _Of course, so might I._

Sarah lined the gun up again, pulled the slide, and fired. She shot off six rounds in rapid succession.

The kid couldn't help it anymore. "Holy shit, dude," he exclaimed to Chuck, "you've got a girl who's hot, she knows how to handle a gun –"

Without even looking, Sarah's right arm swung around, aimed directly at the kid's forehead, and fired off a round.

He staggered backwards, clasping a hand to his forehead, but when he looked up at Sarah, there was nothing but admiration in his eyes. "And damn, can she shoot!"

Seventy-five dollars later, Sarah and Chuck walked out of the store, Sarah with her .50 Desert Eagle and 1,000 rounds of ammunition. "Don't you think that's a little overkill?" Chuck asked.

"Why?" Sarah asked. "In one of your 'Battle Royales', how much do you usually go through?"

"Well, I generally use two of the .44 Desert Eagles, and I only go through about 250 rounds," Chuck said.

"Clearly, you aren't trying hard enough."

* * *

Morgan had told them to give him half an hour at Buy More before they showed up. When they walked in, though, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, with the exception of a single DVD – interestingly enough, Mark Wahlberg's _Shooter_ – set on end on the Nerd Herd desk.

"Greetings, and welcome… to the BATTLE ROYALE!" Morgan intoned as they entered the store. "This is where the boys are separated from the men, the wannabes from the true sharpshooters!"

"The nerds from the rest of us," Ellie muttered under her breath.

Ignoring her, Morgan continued. "We gather at the Nerd Herd desk – the center of the store. Each team will have its own home base – Chuck and Sarah's base will be the car audio office, Ellie's and mine will be the home theater room."

Morgan held up two Frisbees – one green, one yellow – emblazoned with the Buy More logo. "Each team will have a 'flag' of sorts," he said. "You will have to hide the flag somewhere near your base, and of course, attempt to find and retrieve the other team's flag.

"Should you be shot, you must return to your base and count to thirty before returning to the field of battle. If you have the flag in your possession, you must drop it where you were shot.

"There is one little surprise," Morgan said with a grin.

At that, there was a sharp whistle, and with a THOWCK, an Airsoft pellet hit the DVD, knocking it over.

"Hidden somewhere in the store is your friend and mine, Captain Awesome."

"Are you kidding?" Ellie said. "Devon told me he had to work a shift tonight!"

"Sorry, babe!" Awesome's voice boomed out over the P.A. "I promised Morgan I'd keep it a secret. I couldn't turn this down – this is pretty awesome!"

"Anyway," Morgan said, not looking pleased at being interrupted, "CA is hiding somewhere in the store, with an Airsoft sniper rifle. If you get shot by him, same rules apply."

Then Morgan smiled. Evilly. "One last thing," he snickered. "The lights will be off."

"What?!" Chuck said. "We've never played with the lights off before!"

"Well, Charles, it's time to try something new," Morgan replied. "You've got five minutes to get to your base and hide your flag before the lights go off!"

Chuck took off running. By the time Sarah caught up to him, he was standing on a shelf, putting the Frisbee behind the hubcap of a tire mounted on the wall. "They'll never find it up here, especially in the dark!" he said.

"Yeah, but don't you have night vision goggles in the 'More Fun' section of the store?" Sarah asked.

Realization dawned on Chuck's face, and then his head dropped. "And 'More Fun' is right next to home theater," he grumped. "Crap."

"We'll make do," she said. "You've got a CIA agent on your team, remember?"

"I guess that does kind of give us an unfair advantage in a straight up fight," Chuck said with a grin.

And the lights went out. "Alright, Chuck, I'm going to stay here and guard the base," Sarah whispered. "Go get 'em."

Chuck scampered out of the car audio office, and less than five seconds later, Sarah heard a "thwock", followed by an "OW! Dammit, CA, you suck!"

Chuck came stomping back into the office. "Your turn," he said. "One, two, three…"

Sarah left the office low, gun drawn. She saw it quickly – a tiny red laser dot, undoubtedly mounted on Captain Awesome's rifle.

She somersaulted quickly across the aisle in front of her – and heard a pellet from the rifle smack into the shelf she had just past. Despite her professionalism, she couldn't resist. "Missed me!" she taunted the darkness.

Another pellet snapped into the shelf – this one less than two feet from her head. Sarah hit the deck and rolled behind the safety of a shelf. Coming to her feet, she barely poked her head above the shelf, and looked round the store – and there. The source of the laser dot.

She rested her gun on the top of the shelf, lined up the sights, and gently squeezed the trigger, dropping to the ground as soon as she did so. Half a second later, she heard a deep voice go, "Aw, not cool. That was definitely NOT awesome."

Then, she heard him start muttering, "One, two, three…"

With Captain Awesome out of the picture for a few seconds, Sarah took advantage of the situation to move quickly. As she was passing through the computer cable section, she heard a plastic "click" to her left. Gun up and aimed, she whirled to the left, preparing to fire –

And as she did so, she caught a cloud of Airsoft pellets to her chest. It was the shock more than the actual force that did it, but she fell smack on her ass, knocking a rack full of firewire cables off the shelf behind her.

"Son of a bitch," she gasped, pulling out her cell phone to give her a little bit of illumination to see who the culprit was.

As the phone dimly lit the aisle, she saw a dark figure, dressed in camouflage, step toward her. Becoming more illuminated, she could see on the uniform the markings "US Air Force" and…

"Casey."

"Yep," he said, grinning, his white teeth practically glowing beneath the makeup on his face. By the dim light of her phone, she could see that he was holding what looked like a shotgun, attached to a canister on his hip.

"What the hell," she gasped, her chest stinging.

"Gas powered Airsoft shotgun," he intoned softly. "Wonderful, wonderful weapon."

"That's not fair," she said. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, I saw Captain Awesome walking through the courtyard of the apartment complex with his rifle, asked him what was up, and thought it might be fun to play along."

"Oh shit," she realized. "Awesome's not counting any-"

THWOCK. A pellet hit Sarah in the back of the head. "God dammit!" she snapped, her voice getting higher and higher pitched. "That's not fair, Casey! You drew me out, and you're not even supposed to be here!"

"Oh, it's fair," Morgan said, appearing from behind a shelf. "I saw it, you have to go back to your base!"

"Oh, hi Morgan," Casey said, turning toward him. Without missing a beat, he ratcheted the shotgun and pumped a load of pellets into Morgan's chest.

"Aw, come on!" Morgan whined. "I only said you could play because I didn't think you'd shoot me!"

But, as Morgan turned and dejectedly walked back toward his base, Sarah realized that if he was going to do so, she had to do the same. But just for good measure, she turned and shot Casey in the knee as she walked away.

"Ow!" he said. "Cheater!"

"Takes one to know one," she replied.

As she entered the car audio room, she heard Chuck laughing softly. "Takes one to know one?" he mimicked. "What is this, third grade?"

"Oh, shut up," she said. Then she cocked her gun and shot him.

"The hell!" he shouted. "Same team!"

"I'm feeling frisky," Sarah replied, practically giggling. It was WAY past her bedtime. "Now, don't get grumpy, or I'll shoot-"

Pellets hit her in both shoulders. "Maybe I am too," Chuck said, chuckling softly.

"Oh, this is war," she said. But rather than shoot Chuck again, she tackled him.

"Ooof," Chuck grunted as he went down. He discarded both his guns, in an attempt to get a better grip on his attacker.

In the dark, it was difficult for either of them to orient themselves. They tussled around on the floor, the sound of Awesome's rifle and Casey's shotgun occasionally cutting through the noise.

Somehow, Chuck managed to get the upper hand on Sarah. It was REALLY WAY past her bedtime.

Using his size advantage, he locked his knees into place against hers, keeping her from moving. He pinned her arms to the wall, and leaned in. "Yield," he whispered.

Such a cheesy, "Karate Kid" line. But that wasn't what Sarah noticed. What Sarah noticed was that Chuck's face was just a few inches from hers. What she noticed was how incredibly good his body felt pressed against hers. What she noticed was his warm breath on her cheek. What she noticed was –

Morgan coming in the door and clambering up on the shelf! "Morgan!" she shouted as she pushed Chuck off of her. Sarah and Chuck both hit the deck, scrambling for their guns, as Morgan dashed out the door of the car audio office with their Frisbee.

Sarah and Chuck both pursued him, firing with wild abandon, until Captain Awesome hit Sarah in the shoulder with his rifle, and Casey shot Chuck in the back. The next thing they both heard was Ellie and Morgan celebrating on the other side of the store. Then the lights went on.

Chuck looked at Sarah. Sarah looked at Chuck. Try as they might, though, they couldn't meet each other's eyes.

"To the victor goes the spoils!" Morgan intoned, victoriously dancing across the store. Casey stood up from his hiding spot, as Captain Awesome clambered down from the stock ladder in the corner of the store.

"Exactly what does that mean?" Chuck asked, rubbing his back.

"Need some ice there, Chuck?" Casey snarked.

"It means, Chuck, that you and Sarah get to make sure all the Airsoft pellets are cleaned up!" Morgan said, snickering gleefully.

"Aw, come on, that's not right," Chuck protested, but it was to no avail, as Morgan, Ellie, Awesome, and Casey were already headed for the door.

It took nearly an hour to sweep up all the pellets. Neither Sarah or Chuck said a word. They drove back to Sarah's apartment in silence, and finally, when they got there, Chuck spoke.

"Uh… I'm sorry about that…" he said.

"Don't be," Sarah replied a little too quickly. "You… you just managed to get the best of me, that's all."

Then she turned and actually looked at him. "Chuck," she said. "Look. I had fun tonight. Probably much, much more fun than I should have with plastic guns and pellets. I don't know if it's something I necessarily want to do again… but I still had fun."

Chuck's tired face lit up with a little smile. "Well, good," he said. "I guess… I'll probably see you at some point tomorrow."

"Good night, Chuck," Sarah said. She leaned over, gave him a quick hug, and then was on her way.

* * *

Something was out of place, and it had caught Harry Tang's eye. It was next to a rack of firewire cables.

Harry bent over, and picked up the offending object. A little, tiny yellow plastic pellet. "Airsoft," he growled. "Somebody's been using my store as a playground."

And he knew exactly who.

"BARTOWSKI!"

_fin_


	2. Battle Royale Number 2

_I was having a real problem with finding anywhere to go with my stories that crossed over with _Doctor Who, Pushing Daisies_, and _Firefly_. So, I decided to go back to the well and write a second part to one of my original _Chuck_ – and ONLY _Chuck_ – stories. And I think I may have gotten the creative juices flowing JUST ENOUGH to get back to those other stories._

_Also, there's been a bit of chatter over in the Chuck Fanfiction forum on Television Without Pity these last few days about how there are certain "cues" that Sarah has that a lot of fanfic writers include in their stories. So, just for shits and giggles, I decided to see just how many of those I could work in._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

"Chuck." 

"Morgan."

"You know what we haven't done in a while?"

"There's many things we haven't done in a while, Morgan. There's a very good reason for most of those, too."

"Yeah, but I'm thinking one thing in particular."

"All right, Morgan, what haven't we done in a while?"

"Battle Royale at the Buy More Arena."

Chuck looked up sharply and set down his PS3 controller. "No. Absolutely not. No way."

"Aw, come on, Chuck," Morgan whined. "It was so much fun last time!"

"And last time, we missed ONE pellet –"

"You and Sarah missed ONE pellet, buddy. I had nothing to do with the cleanup."

"- fine, I missed ONE pellet, and Harry Tang tore a strip off of me and stuck you in the Hole for a week."

"While I do recall with great displeasure my banishment to Buy More Hell for that unfortunate week, I also seem to recall that shortly after the end of that week, Harry Tang packed up and moved to Hawai'i," Morgan shot back. "_Post hoc_, no more Harry Tang; _ergo propter hoc_, bust out the Airsoft guns!"

Chuck's jaw dropped open. He stared at Morgan, dumbfounded. "Did… did you just properly use a Latin phrase to explain a causality occurrence?" he asked, incredulous.

Morgan's smile turned incredibly smug. "You betcha."

"How in the hell… how could you have possibly known that?"

"Some secrets are not meant to be known," Morgan obfuscated.

Chuck just stared at him for a moment, and then it occurred to him in a flash – a flash of inspiration, not an Intersect flash. "You've been watching_The West Wing_, haven't you?"

Morgan's expression went from smug to crestfallen so quickly that Chuck could almost hear his face fall. "Aw, that's not fair…"

Chuck wasn't any less confused, though. "Why were you watching _The West Wing_? You have no interest whatsoever in politics, you don't like Martin Sheen…"

"I don't like**modern** Martin Sheen," Morgan corrected him. "_Apocalypse Now_ Martin Sheen was a god among men."

Chuck just looked at his oldest friend, and then it came to him. "You've been watching it because it's one of Ellie's favorite shows, and you're having trouble coming to terms with the fact that she's engaged."

Morgan immediately got defensive. "No, that's not it at all! I just… um… well…"

"Morgan, come on."

Morgan seemed to deflate, and literally drooped before Chuck's eyes. "Yeah. You're right. As usual."

Chuck sighed. "Alright," he said, defeated. There was no way he could say no to Morgan now. "We'll have a Battle Royale."

Morgan immediately perked up. "Really? Friday night?"

"Yep, Friday night," Chuck replied. "But we can't miss a single Airsoft pellet this time…"

"…because if we do, Big Mike puts us on overnight stock duty for a month," Morgan finished. "I know. We won't miss anything."

"Alright. We don't miss anything," Chuck warned. He reached out to flip the Playstation off. "I've got to go," he said as the television switched back to Channel 4.

Paul Moyer appeared on the screen. "Senator Edward Kennedy landed at LAX today. He's here to appear at a symposium at USC…"

Chuck's eyes rolled back in his head as a flash started. Multiple images flashed before his eyes, but one in particular struck him.

"Shit," he uttered, running out the door.

As Morgan stood in Chuck's living room, a look of confusion plastered on his face, Chuck dashed across the courtyard to Casey's apartment and started banging on the door.

Seconds later, Casey yanked the door open, gun in hand. "What the hell, Bartowski, are the four horsemen riding down the street?"

"No, no," Chuck gasped. "Ted Kennedy's speaking at USC tonight, and some fanatical anti-immigration group called the Patriot League is going to try to bump him off."

Casey's face hardened, and he pulled Chuck inside his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. "Are you sure of this?"

"Positive," Chuck replied. "I saw him on the news, and then I had a flash."

"Christ," Casey growled. "That's all we need – a senator who supports immigrants' rights and who just happens to have endorsed Barack Obama getting dead in Los Angeles."

As if saying, _Why me, Lord?_, Casey threw his hands in the air and grunted. "Call Walker. I'll call General Beckman. I'm pretty certain we're going to have a mission on our hands tonight."

Chuck nodded and stepped back outside, closing the door to Casey's apartment behind him. He pulled out his phone and was about to call Sarah when Morgan came running up to him.

"Chuck, what was that all about?"

"Not now, Morgan!"

Morgan got an offended look on his face, and started to walk away.

"Dammit," Chuck muttered. "Morgan, wait!"

"Are you sure, Chuck?" Morgan shot back. "You sure you have the time for me?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I just really, really wanted to consult with Casey on that Airsoft shotgun he used the last time."

Morgan looked at Chuck, and then started to grin. "You thinking of getting some heavy armament for Friday night?"

"You betcha, buddy."

"Alright then," Morgan answered. "I'm out. I'll probably drop by later, so make sure the window's unblocked. And, you know, you and Sarah, you might want to not-"

"Morgan!"

"Peace!"

Shaking his head, Chuck hit the dial button on his iPhone. Halfway through the first ring, the phone was answered.

"Walker."

"It's Chuck. We've got a situation."

* * *

"Bartowski was absolutely right," General Beckman told them via the video link. "The Patriot League is apparently planning an assassination attempt against Senator Kennedy tonight. Major Casey was also absolutely right when he said we can't afford for that to happen. I've spoken to the President, and he is going to be extremely unhappy if this isn't stopped." 

"No pressure there, General," Casey muttered.

"You'll have backup, Casey," General Beckman replied.

"Who, Walker and Bartowski?"

"No, you'll have two FBI Special Agents and a number of agents from the local Secret Service office. Agent Walker can't participate in this mission."

"I'm sorry?" Sarah asked. "Why not?"

"You're CIA, Agent Walker, and this is strictly a domestic operation. You'll stay in the observation vehicle with Bartowski."

"Aw, Sarah, you get to stay in the car with me," Chuck cracked.

Sarah shot Chuck what could best be described as a _LOOK_. Chuck shut his mouth immediately.

"Is that a problem, Agent Walker?" General Beckman asked.

"No, ma'am," Sarah replied, her voice tight.

"Alright then," the General said. "Agent Walker, Bartowski, you're dismissed."

Sarah nodded. "Thank you," Chuck said, following Sarah out the door.

As soon as they were outside, Sarah gave Chuck a bit of a shove, and though he didn't think it felt playful, when he turned, she had a smile on her face.

"I 'get' to stay in the car with you?" she smirked. "Are you sure it's not a sentence?"

"Hey, staying in the car is fun!" Chuck objected. "We can sit there and swap work stories… you know, how many computers I can fix in an hour, how many people you can kill in an hour…"

Sarah laughed and shook her head. "Besides, half the time, I end up not staying in the car anyway," Chuck finished. "This could be one of those times."

Sarah shook her head again, but this time it meant, "No. I have to stay in the van. General Beckman's right. CIA can't interfere with a domestic operation. There's no foreign involvement in this one; if I get tangled up with it, it'll open a whole can of worms, and that wouldn't be good."

Chuck nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

He paused, as if he was thinking. "Ummm…"

"Yes?" Sarah said, a teasing note in her voice.

"Never mind." Chuck shook his head. "I'll talk to you about it later."

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," Chuck insisted. "If I talk to you about it now, that's one less thing to kill time in the observation van later."

Sarah nodded thoughtfully. "Alright," she replied. "Fair enough. Should I pick you up around, say, 6:30?"

"Actually," Chuck said, "I was thinking about asking Devin if I can borrow his car. It seems to me that an Escape will get a lot less attention on a college campus than a Porsche or a Herder."

"It's USC, Chuck."

"Right." Chuck mentally smacked his forehead. "Alright, so, you'll pick me up at 6:30."

"Sounds like a plan," she confirmed. Then, as if taking his appearance in for the first time, Sarah's expression changed to one of amusement. Stepping toward him, she reached her hands around his the back of his neck, and adjusted his collar. "Your collar was flipped up in the back, and your tie is massively crooked," she said, as she straightened and tightened his tie. "What exactly were you doing?"

Chuck, his breath having caught when Sarah's hand brushed the back of his neck –_God, I hate that she can still do that to me_, he thought – took a moment to find his voice. "Uh, Morgan and I were playing GTA, and it got a little out of hand."

"Clearly." Sarah smiled. "By the way, before I pick you up tonight," she reached up and brushed his bangs off his forehead, "you really should get a haircut. Your sister was right when she said your hair makes funny animal shapes. You've pretty much got a zoo up there."

Chuck spread his hands in objection, his face taking on a look of mock horror. "A zoo? A ZOO?! How dare you, madam!"

Sarah laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up. Go get a haircut. I'll see you in a few hours."

* * *

Sarah was incredibly jumpy. Between being stuck here in the van and having had that vanilla latte right at the beginning, she was crawling up the wall. Not that she wasn't thankful for the coffee. She was incredibly amused – and a little bit touched – by the fact that Chuck was so observant that he'd figured out what she liked from Starbucks just from the few times they'd been together. 

Of course, he WAS the human Intersect, so she figured it wasn't THAT unexpected.

Chuck – with his hair now a good two inches shorter – had sucked down some iced thing that had been at least twice the size of Sarah's coffee, but was showing no ill effects from it. She marveled at that fact, but had come to the conclusion that being a self-styled nerd, he probably consumed a much larger amount of caffeine than she did on a daily basis.

He had sat in almost meditative silence, his attention fixed on the monitors as Casey and his team of agents had methodically and quietly removed six of the seven suspects from the crowd inside the hotel. Those in attendance hadn't even noticed.

However, suspect number seven was nowhere to be found. "This is ridiculous," they heard Casey growl into his radio. "How is it that we can't find a six foot tall, two hundred seventy pound Samoan guy?"

Sarah almost giggled, but choked it back. Chuck turned toward her and gave her a strange look.

"Did you… did you just giggle?" he asked.

She smiled, helplessly. "It's the caffeine. I'm about to climb the walls."

"Well, let's take your mind off of it," Chuck suggested. "It always works for me."

"Okay," Sarah replied. "Why don't we start by talking about whatever it is you didn't want to talk about earlier?"

"Oh." Chuck shrugged. "It's no big deal. Morgan just wants to have another Airsoft war in the Buy More, and I didn't know if you'd be up for it."

It was all Sarah could do to not start laughing. "Again?" She shook her head as a little bit of laughter escaped. "You know what, I did have a lot of fun last time. What the hell."

"Just so you know," Chuck warned her, "Morgan wants to do guys against girls this time."

"So, you, Morgan, and Devin, against me, Ellie, and…"

"Anna," Chuck finished. "She's a pretty good shot, too. She was on the rifle team in high school –"

"High schools in California have rifle teams?"

"Private school in Orange County," Chuck explained.

"What about Casey?"

"He begged off. He said he had a prior commitment, sorting through surveillance tapes… or… somethi…"

Chuck's voice trailed off, as he leaned forward to look at one of his monitors.

"Chuck?"

Chuck put up a finger. He squinted his eyes, focusing on something on the screen, and then keyed his earpiece.

"Casey. There's a heavyset Asian woman, about fifty feet to your left, in a purple gown… but I don't think it's a woman. I think that's your suspect."

"Roger that," Casey replied. On the monitor, Chuck watched Casey turn and approach the woman from behind. As he did so, he pulled the badge the FBI had given him from his belt. He tapped the woman on the shoulder, and as she turned, Chuck heard Casey say, "FBI. You're und-"

And the woman hauled off and punched Casey square in the nose. She took off running, with every agent in the room hot on her tail. Casey slowly got up, blood pouring from his nose. He looked up at the nearest surveillance camera. "Good call, Bartowski," he said in a mix of half sincerity, half sarcasm.

Chuck tracked the suspect's progress on the monitors. "She" shed her shoes and dress as she went, leaving a six foot tall, two hundred seventy pound Samoan guy thundering through the back halls of the conference center, wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and socks.

It took a moment for Chuck to realize, but then – "He's coming our way!"

"Chuck, what the hell are you doing?" Sarah asked as he clambered into the driver's seat.

"Just trust me," was his cryptic answer.

Seconds later, the loading dock door fifty feet from them flew open, and the suspect came barreling out. "Perfect," Chuck breathed

Realization and horror dawned on Sarah simultaneously as Chuck grabbed the door handle. "Chuck, what are –"

The suspect drew even with the driver's door of the van, and Chuck flung it open as hard as he could. The suspect smashed into it at full tilt, his face shattering the window, and he crashed to the ground, blasted into unconsciousness.

Chuck was about to get out of the van, but Sarah reached past him and slammed the door shut. The shattered safety glass fell out of the door frame into the van, Chuck quickly scooting away from the door.

The agents came thundering up just then, Casey bringing up the rear. Sarah opened the sliding door, getting out of the van, and motioning for Chuck to follow.

As they came around the front of the van, Casey looked from the suspect to Chuck in disbelief. "Bartowski do this?" he asked through the paper towel held to his nose.

Sarah just nodded. Chuck smiled.

Casey grinned. "It's a proud day for me," he said. "I think Bartowski finally grew some balls."

* * *

It was Battle Royale time. 

Chuck had been scolded mildly by Sarah for his rather rash action to take down the suspect at USC, but Casey, Beckman, and Graham had all been rather pleased with the result.

However, Sarah had jokingly sworn her revenge on Chuck for "disobeying orders". Chuck hadn't taken her seriously until he'd seen her walk into the Buy More with an olive drab duffel bag.

"Do I even want to know what's in there?" Morgan asked.

"I have the feeling that this is not going to be awesome," Devin added as Chuck just shook his head.

Morgan hid their "flag" under the sofa in the home theatre lounge, and then hit the lights. Almost immediately, music began blaring from the car audio office – the women's base.

"Liz Phair?" Morgan snorted derisively.

"Girl power music," Devin grunted. Keeping low, he moved out. Within seconds, there was a very loud pop and a sharp thwack. A moment later, he returned to the home theatre lounge, holding his shoulder.

"They all have gas-powered AR-15 replicas," he whined. "This is so not awesome."

As he began counting to thirty, Chuck and Morgan moved out. Devin was right. They were putting their Desert Eagles and Colts against a replica of the civilian version of the US Army's primary rifle. They were going to get plastered.

Perhaps it was time for a different tactic.

Chuck got as low to the ground as he could, and started crawling. He heard another "thwack" and then heard Morgan yelp. Then he heard Anna say, "I didn't hurt you, did I, baby?" concern thick in her voice.

_Make me vomit_, Chuck thought.

He poked his head around a shelf – and ducked back just as quickly. Sarah was right there, at the other end of a row of DVDs, her back to him. He poked his head back out again – her back still turned.

Carefully, Chuck slid the Airsoft into the waistband of his jeans, behind his back. He stood to a crouch, and quietly moved around the corner. When he had a clear shot at Sarah, he began to run as quietly as possible, still crouched over.

He wasn't quite quiet enough, as she heard him just before he reached her and whirled to face him – but it didn't matter, because he was close enough that all he had to do was lunge forward, grab her midsection, and down they went.

There was a clatter of plastic as Sarah lost her grip on her AR-15 and the gas canister popped off her belt. Grabbing his Desert Eagle from behind his back, Chuck rolled toward the replica rifle, but before he could grab it, Sarah landed on top of him, rolling him onto his back, and shoving the muzzle of her own Desert Eagle against his chest – but she was quickly surprised when she discovered the muzzle of a replica Desert Eagle pushed into her stomach.

"Why Chuck," she whispered, "is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Ha ha, very funny, smartass," he whispered back.

"I think you need to surrender."

"I think YOU need to surrender," he shot back.

"I'll shoot you."

"You shoot me, I'll shoot… are you wearing night vision goggles?"

Without warning, he reached his free hand up and pulled them off her head. "Hey!" she yelled.

"Sarah? What's going on?" Chuck heard Ellie's voice come faintly from the direction of Sarah's head.

"Tactical radios?!"

He pulled the earpiece from her ear – and quickly discovered that it was the entire radio. "Ooh, nifty CIA toy, and the civilian's got it!" he said, mocking her.

"That's it," she growled, and pulled the trigger. But he was ready, and as soon as he heard the plastic click of her trigger, he pulled his own.

Sarah staggered back, holding her stomach, while Chuck rubbed the spot on his chest. "You suck," she hissed.

"Bite me," he replied.

Sarah went stomping back to her side in a huff, while Chuck returned to his. It wasn't until she reached the car audio office that she realized…

"Goddamn sneaky bastard," she whispered to herself, a smile on her face.

Meanwhile, Chuck was putting on his NVGs, had put the tac radio in his ear, and was hooking the gas canister to his belt. "Whoa, did you mug one of the girls?" Devin asked, as he reloaded one of his clips.

"Took Sarah down but good," Chuck replied, a note of smug pride in his voice. Then, because he couldn't resist, he keyed the radio.

"Hi Ellie, hi Anna," he said. "You can call me Sarah!"

"Goddammit," he heard Ellie say, and then the radios went dead.

"Well, I seem to have taken that advantage away from them," Chuck whispered.

"Leave it on, dude," Devin suggested. "You never know when they might think they're safe to use them again."

Chuck had long since passed thirty, so he headed out of the home theatre lounge. As he exited, he passed Morgan limping in.

"Your sister opened up on full automatic on my crotch," he moaned.

"Ooh," he heard Devin say. "That had to hurt."

Chuck kept low as he headed out, scanning as he went. As he was passing the point where he had ambushed Sarah, he heard a noise to his right. He turned his head –

And the world exploded with light.

Chuck ripped the NVGs off his head, and between the spots, he could see Sarah standing at the other end of the aisle, MagLite in hand. Aiming the best that he could, he opened fire on her with the AR-15. He was pretty certain that he hit her at least once, but rather than backing down, she started running straight at him.

Dropping the gun and detaching the canister from his belt, Chuck braced himself. He still got knocked on his ass when Sarah hit him at full speed, her rather superior CIA training getting the best of him.

He went down, the wind knocked out of him, but managed to somehow kick the AR-15 out of Sarah's reach. She tried to roll off of him and grab for it, but he wrapped his arms around her as if giving her a bear hug.

There wasn't much she could do in such close quarters, and Chuck wasn't about to let her go, either.

"You are really starting to piss me off," she hissed. However, with her face so close to Chuck's, he could see that she was smiling.

"Yeah, but you like it," he whispered back.

"What can I say, I'm having fun," she admitted.

"And therein lies the point."

After a moment, it became evident that Chuck had no intention of letting go of her. "Are you going to release me, Mr. Intersect?"

"Not a chance," Chuck replied. "As soon as I do, you'll go diving for that gun, and I can't have that, now can I?"

"Well, then, I might as well make the most of my situation," she said.

"Huh?"

At that point, she leaned her face in closer, and kissed Chuck. He was so surprised that he almost let go of her. But this kiss wasn't like the one at the pier. That one had been full of fiery passion and danger. This one was gentle and tender – and brief. But it was quickly followed with another. And another.

After a moment, Chuck released the bear hug, and slid his hands up higher, pulling Sarah as close to him as he could. He could feel her breathing growing heavy and ragged, and was sure the same thing was happening to his own.

As quickly as it started, though, it ended, as whoops and hollers sounded from Ellie and Anna and the lights went on. Unfortunately, Devin was standing no more than ten feet from Chuck and Sarah.

"Whoa!" he uttered as he saw the two tangled on the floor. "Fraternizing with the enemy, there, Chuckster?"

Sarah quickly disentangled herself from Chuck and popped up to her feet. Chuck was still a little sore from getting knocked on his ass and took longer to get up.

"Well, I guess that's us on cleanup duty," Morgan groused, walking up.

Devin clapped his hand on Morgan's shoulder. "I think we should give Chuck a pass on this one," he informed Morgan.

"What?!"

"I think Chuck's got more important things to do," Devin said with a smile.

Chuck smiled. "Thanks."

He caught up to Sarah as she was loading the duffel bag into the cargo space of her Porsche. "Hey," he called. "Sarah!"

She turned to see him, smiled and blushed red all at the same time. "Listen," she said as he walked up to her. "I'm not sure that was the best idea I've ever had."

"I think it was a fantastic idea," Chuck replied, slipping his arms behind her back, pulling her close to him. "In fact, I think it may have in fact been THE best idea you've ever had."

He initiated this kiss, and it was considerably longer and considerably more passionate this time. When they finally broke, Sarah whispered, "This is a terrible idea."

"Who cares," Chuck whispered back.

"Yeah… who cares."

* * *

Seven o'clock the next morning, Morgan snuck around the back of the Bartowski apartment. Carefully, he opened the "Morgan Door", and boosted himself up to the level of the window. 

Something was not right. "Chuck?" Morgan called.

No Chuck. In fact, Chuck's bed was still made. No clothes on the floor. No shoes next to the bed.

"What the hell is going on?"

* * *

Several miles away, an alarm clock sounded in a hotel room. 

Chuck Bartowski opened his eyes – and realized that a beautiful blonde woman was sleeping next to him.

He lifted the blanket. "I appear to be naked," he whispered. "As does Sarah."

"I believe I am," Sarah muttered.

She rolled out from under the covers, and strode – naked – across the room to turn off the alarm clock. She turned back and faced Chuck.

"Wow," Chuck said.

"This is such a bad idea," Sarah insisted, once again. A smile spread across her face.

"But I absolutely love it."


	3. Those Crazy Kids and Their Guns

_**Author's Note:**__ I felt like getting silly. As a result, I have written a new chapter of _Chuck vs. the Airsoft Gun_ – in a manner of speaking. What I've done here is combined the events of chapters 1&2 of _Airsoft Gun_ with the AU that crosses over with Veronica Mars (_Beautiful Letdown, Chuck In a Moment_). Now, technically, the first two chapters of this story aren't in that continuity. However, it's a fun story to write. Also, Chuck and Sarah get a little frisky throughout, more so than is usually spelled out in my stories – but still, nothing that goes beyond an R rating. So… yeah. Enjoy!_

* * *

It was the weekend after Valentine's Day. Chuck and Sarah had gotten back from their honeymoon on Wednesday.

Up until about five months before, Chuck would've dreaded coming back from a vacation – ever. But ever since September, when he had sold _Disaster City_ to Rock Star Games and gotten ten million dollars in return, he had sort of made his own schedule at the Buy More.

Yeah, most weeks he still worked forty hours. He really needed something to do with his time too much to NOT go to work. But if he felt like taking a vacation, or going to Zuma Beach and hitting the waves with Logan Echolls, or just sleeping in – basically, all he had to do was tell Big Mike, and Big Mike was cool with that.

On Friday, Chuck was actually at the Nerd Herd desk at 8:00 A.M. Logan had torn up his arm the day before when he got completely owned by a wave, and the doctor had told him he wasn't allowed to go back in the salt water for at least two weeks. Well, neither Sarah nor Bryce surfed, Casey had been ordered not to do ANYTHING that could screw up his left knee any further, Veronica was off in San Diego – and Chuck would rather walk over broken glass than go surfing with Devin and get completely shown up.

For a Friday, it was really slow Just after noon, Sarah came by to visit him for lunch. For old times' sake, they went over to the Wienerlicious.

Scooter wasn't particularly happy to see them. "Oh, look, it's the freak and the agent who likes jumping from bridges!" he spat bitterly.

It turned out that the Wienerlicious was a CIA front. Scooter had been part of the Company for almost twenty years, and was going precisely nowhere. So, watching Sarah get off scot free with faking her death, and then watching Chuck become a multi-millionaire – he was a very bitter man.

They both ignored him, got corn dogs and fries, and sodas, and headed back outside. "Why are we eating Wienerlicious again?" Chuck asked. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I can afford Panda Express these days."

Sarah smiled. "Come on, this place is a huge part of our past, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, well, nonetheless."

Sarah just rolled her eyes and shook her head – and then froze. "Uh-oh, Morgan alert."

Chuck just laughed. "Just get used to it, Sarah. He's always going to think he's on equal footing with you."

"He's not, though."

"No."

Morgan came running up to the table. "Hey, you crazy kids, what's up?"

"Uh, my cholesterol levels after we're done here," Chuck replied. "And from the looks of things, your blood pressure."

"Yeah, well, I just had to come over and tell you," Morgan said, a little breathless. "Hobby World's got a new Airsoft model in."

Chuck's ears perked up, and he focused on Morgan. "Continue."

"Dude, it's a M249 that fires four hundred rounds per minute."

That part actually got Sarah's attention. "Really," she said. "How accurate is it?"

"Man, I was watching this YouTube video… they fired it for a minute – so, four hundred rounds, right? – and they managed to get two hundred seventy two of them in this one inch diameter tube."

Chuck looked at Sarah, and then at Morgan. "Morgan," he said, making his voice sound like the Brain, "are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

"I think so Chuck," Morgan replied in his Pinky voice, "but I'd rather eat the Macarena."

"YEAH!" Chuck shouted, holding up his hand for a high five. Morgan slapped it – hard.

"So, when we gonna do this thing?"

Chuck looked at Sarah. "No," she said. "I just want to see this gun in action. The last two 'Battles Royale' we've had, you've almost ended up maiming me both times."

Chuck stuck out his bottom lip and gave Sarah big puppy dog eyes. "Not gonna work," she said, looking away.

And they didn't. Chuck couldn't believe it. The puppy dog eyes had always worked before. "Well, that's aggravating," he muttered. Then he had a new plan. "Morgan, look away."

"What?"

"I said, look away!"

"Chuck, why is Morgan looking away?" Sarah asked. Chuck didn't say anything – he just slid around next to Sarah. "Where is your hand goi – ooohhhhh…"

"What the hell are you two doing?!" Morgan exclaimed, covering his ears.

"Okay, tomorrow night sounds good," Sarah conceded weakly.

Chuck smiled. "That wasn't that hard, was it?"

"Bet something else is," Sarah shot back.

"Okay, the two of you are making me ill," Morgan groaned, turning back to face them.

"At LEAST you never caught us in the break room," Chuck replied.

That gave Morgan pause. "Hmmm," he mused, putting his hand to his chin. "Good point."

Then he cocked an eyebrow. "So, who are we inviting?"

"Oh, the usual suspects," Chuck replied. "The three of us, Ellie, Devin, Anna. But I think we ought to get Casey, Bryce, Veronica, and Logan in on the action. REALLY make it a Battle Royale."

Sarah looked at him strangely. "What did you have in mind for teams?" she asked. "That's not an even number of guys and girls. That's not even an even number of… you know."

_Feds and non-feds_? Chuck thought. But he didn't say anything.

"I'll figure something out," Morgan replied. "So… 10:00 PM, tomorrow, the Buy More?"

"Rockin'," Chuck said, giving Morgan a thumbs up.

Once Morgan had gone, Chuck's hand magically found its way back underneath Sarah's skirt. "Oookay, you have got to stop – ohhh, you really have to stop," she said, moans interspersed in her speech. "You can't get me alllll… ohhh, all wound up, and then go back to work."

Chuck rolled his eyes, pulled out his phone, and dialed. "Yeah, Big Mike? I gotta take the rest of the afternoon off. Yeah, wife's got an emergency that she needs me to take care of. Sorry. Alright, see you Monday."

"It's hardly an emergen – ohhhhh… okay, let's go."

* * *

_Buy More e-mail message_

_DATE: Friday, February 19__th__, 2010_

_TIME: 3:46 P.M._

_FROM: Morgan Grimes_

_TO: Chuck Bartowski, Sarah Bartowski, John Casey, Logan Echolls, Bryce Larkin, Veronica Mars, Devin Woodcomb, Ellie Woodcomb, Anna Wu_

_SUBJECT: Buy More Battle Royale 2/20_

_Okay, folks, so here's the deal. It's goin' down tomorrow night at the Buy More. Airsoft Battle Royale, capture-the-flag style, first one we've had in a couple of years. And you know you want to be there._

_Pretty much anything goes. Laser sights, tactical radios, whatever weapons you want – as long as they're airsoft weapons. No BBs, no paintballs, and Casey, leave your 30.06 at home._

_Now, something to keep in mind – the losing team has to clean up the Buy More. So keep that in mind when arming yourselves._

_Otherwise, though, PREPARE FOR GLORY!_

_Morgan_

* * *

"Casey, are you seriously telling me you have an arsenal of NSA developed Airsoft weapons?"

"Bryce, we've got to have a plan for every possible contingency."

Bryce Larkin shook his head. "God help us if the taxpayers ever find out where their money's going."

"Well, you just found out."

"The IRS thinks I'm dead, remember? Kinda advantageous on April 15th."

Casey rolled his eyes. "Wow, such a great ethical code there, Larkin."

"Hey, why should I argue with the federal government?" Bryce smiled. "Now, let's see what you've got."

* * *

Chuck and Sarah were at Hobby World, looking in awe at the M249. "This is a thing of beauty," she said softly.

"And here I thought you were so attached to your 1911," Chuck said.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, the M1911 is a FANTASTIC sidearm," Sarah replied, "but for brute destructive force – this thing looks like it would do the trick."

But Chuck's attention had been diverted. There was a leather belt hanging on the wall – with four holsters attached. "Hello," he said. "What's this?"

He pulled down the belt. "Hmmm," he mused. "Two large holsters, two smaller holsters. Well, that's just perfect for my Desert Eagle .44 caliber, my Colt 1911, and my two Walther P9s…"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "At least get a couple of Uzis," she said.

* * *

Logan Echolls aimed the shotgun at the tissue paper target. He turned the valve on the gas canister attached to his belt, and fired.

A fraction of a second later, the tissue paper was shredded as twenty Airsoft pellets ripped through it. "Wow," came a voice from behind him. "Either you're really bored, or you're compensating for something."

"You should know better than to think it's the second one," he replied without even looking back. "In fact, I know for a fact that you know better."

Veronica Mars rolled her eyes. "Men," she said. "You're not seriously going to participate in this, are you?"

"Hell yes I am!" Logan exclaimed. "And so are you!"

"Really."

"Yeah. There's a metal crate right inside the back door. Full of weapons. Go pick your poison."

* * *

"What about a babysitter, Devin?"

"Come on, there's like half a dozen college girls at First Lutheran who all love Reese. I say, if we're going there on a weekly basis and dropping a hundred and fifty bucks in the plate every Sunday, we should at least take a little bit of advantage of it."

Ellie sighed. "I don't know, I just feel a little silly leaving him with a babysitter to go basically have play time at the Buy More."

"It'll be fun!" Devin insisted. "You certainly liked it the last two times!"

_That was before I knew how many federal agents were involved_, she thought. Of course, she couldn't say that out loud – Devin still didn't know that Chuck was a CIA employee being protected by multiple federal agents.

Of course, Ellie was only partially right herself. She'd freak if she knew about the Intersect.

* * *

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO THE BATTLE ROYALE!"

Morgan always loved making a spectacle of it. He stood on top of the Nerd Herd desk, dressed all in black.

The other participants were dressed in their own special ways as well. Casey was dressed in an Air Force BDU. Sarah and Chuck were dressed in black – "Are you wearing matching outfits?" Morgan asked in disgust.

"No," Chuck said, his denial falling flat as his face turned red. Logan was also dressed in a battle dress uniform. Bryce was dressed all in olive green. Veronica was wearing an FBI outfit. Devin and Ellie were both wearing dark blue UCLA sweatshirts and jeans. Anna –

Anna was wearing some sort of skin tight Charlie's Angels sort of thing. Chuck didn't even want to know what Morgan's feelings on that were.

"So, you have been divided into two teams by a BASIC program that was run on a twenty-five year old Commodore 64 computer," Morgan announced. "The teams are as follows: Gold Team is Sarah Bartowski, Logan Echolls, Bryce Larkin, Devin Woodcomb, and Anna Wu. Green Team is Chuck Bartowski, John Casey, Veronica Mars, Ellie Woodcomb, and myself."

"Prepare to die, Casey," Bryce Larkin said with a grin.

"You're goin' down, Mars!" Logan added. "GOLD TEAM!" Then he and Bryce improvised some sort of secret handshake thing.

"You have five minutes to hide your flags!" Morgan said. "Remember the rules – you get shot, you return to your base and count to thirty! Now… GO FORTH!"

Chuck thought he had a pretty good hiding place for Green Team's flag. Back in a corner of the printer section, there were two cases of form feed paper that hadn't moved since Chuck had worked at the Buy More. They were covered in a fairly thick layer of dust, and he figured that if the flag went behind those, it would NEVER be found.

Sarah was a little more creative. "They'll never find it if we put it someplace visible," she said. "They won't be expecting it.

And so, the yellow Buy More Frisbee that was Gold Team's flag went on a record player, and the plastic cover closed back over it. Logan shook his head. "Never would've thought of that," he admitted.

That's when the lights went out. "Okay, radio check," Sarah said, depressing the button on her tactical radio.

"Logan."

"Bryce."

"Awesome."

"Anna."

Over on the Green team, John Casey was doing the same thing. "This is Green Six, how copy?"

"Two checks," Chuck replied.

"Three," Veronica said.

"Four," Morgan answered.

"Five," came Ellie's voice.

"Let's do this," Casey said.

Chuck's teams usually had a strategy of sending one person at a time, leaving the others to guard the base. However, with their flag in a seemingly un-findable location, they all moved out at once.

There was silence for a moment. Then –

POP

"Son of a bitch!" Casey hissed. "Echolls has got a friggin' shotgun!"

"I'll take care of him," Veronica said. Casey tromped back to the printer area, and started counting loudly enough to be heard storewide. "ONE, TWO, THREE…"

Veronica took advantage of the noise, and using her size to her advantage, managed to keep down as she scuttled around racks of DVDs. There was Logan, toting his shotgun… and what looked like night vision goggles on his face.

"Uh-oh," she whispered into the radio. "Gold Team's got NVGs."

"Shit," Casey replied. "Bartowski, please tell me you remembered ours."

No answer.

"Bartowski?"

"He must be pinned down or something," came Morgan's voice.

"Hell with it," Veronica whispered. Pulling out her tiny flashlight, she peered around the corner toward where Logan was. Aiming her gun at the shelf, she fired off one round.

Logan heard the plastic pellet hit home and whirled toward the source of the noise. Immediately, Veronica flicked her flashlight on and then back off. It was on for just a fraction of a second, but that was more than enough.

"OWWW!" he shouted. Veronica stood up and shot him point blank in the chest, three times.

"That's not fair, Veronica," he grumbled.

"Oh, don't be sad, Logan," she said, walking toward him –

Right into the path of fire of Bryce Larkin's NSA issue rapid-fire Airsoft gun with no official designation. "Ow, ow, ow, son of a bitch!" Veronica shouted, dropping to the ground.

"Now who's sad?" Logan asked cheekily as he walked away.

Veronica growled at him as she stood and headed back toward the printer section.

"Hey," Logan asked into the tactical radio in his ear, "where's everybody at?"

"I'm over by the Nerd Herd desk," he heard Anna say.

"Home appliances," Devin replied.

"I'm by the home theatre lounge," Bryce said. "It's locked, but I'm gonna see if I can't pick the lock and set it up as a firing blind – wait."

"What is it?"

But Bryce had gone off the air.

A moment later, though, John Casey heard him in his earpiece. "Casey, Mars, Sarah," he whispered, "we may have a situation."

"Bryce, get off our channel," Casey shot back. "That's cheating."

"No, I'm being serious here," Bryce replied. "The home theatre lounge is locked, but there's definitely people in there. I'm not sure what's going on."

"Alright," Casey said. "Mars, Walker, meet me at the home theatre lounge."

A moment later, Casey and Veronica joined Bryce by the door of the home theatre lounge. "Where's Walker?" Casey asked.

Bryce looked at him curiously through his night vision goggles. "I don't know," he replied. "I figured she'd show up with you guys."

Casey was starting to feel a certain amount of dread in the pit of his stomach. He pulled out his cell phone and activated the tracking program – no, Bartowski's Corvette was still in the Buy More parking lot.

"No, no, no," he growled. Keying the radio, he said, "Bartowski, what's your twenty?"

No response.

"Bartowski!"

There was still no answer. "This is NOT good," Casey said. "We really might have a situation. First thing we need to figure out is what the hell is going on in there. There's sensitive classified equipment in that room."

"Agreed," Bryce said. The three federal agents stood up, and Casey backed away from the door. Lunging forward, he thrust his shoulder against the edge.

The door popped open. "FEDERAL AGENTS!" Casey stage whispered, storming into the room. Bryce and Veronica followed, switching flashlights on –

"Oh my GOD!" Casey said in disgust.

The only thing the three federal agents had caught was another federal agent and a federal asset _en flagrante_. Chuck and Sarah both looked like deer in the headlights – Sarah lying on the couch, naked from the waist down, Chuck with his pants around his ankles, and absolutely no question about what was going on.

"Get OUT!" Sarah hissed.

The home theatre lounge went dark again, and the three agents backed out of the room, with Casey slowly shutting the door behind him. "I'm gonna go… um, vomit," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna go bleach my eyeballs now," Bryce muttered. "Mars, you want to join me?"

"What?" she asked with a shrug. "Why would I? Nothing new there. I've had sex with Chuck. Quite a few times, back before he got married."

"O-KAY," Bryce said. "I'll be bleaching my eardrums as well."

* * *

The interruption didn't deter Chuck and Sarah any, and a few minutes later, they were finished.

Chuck sighed contentedly. "That was nice," he said.

"Yes, it was," Sarah replied. "Now, where's your flag?"

"Not telling," he said. "I'll take that secret to the graaaaaa…"

Chuck's eyes went wide. "There's two cases of form-feed paper on a bottom shelf. Flag's behind those."

Sarah sat up. "You are so easy," she laughed, and kissed Chuck on the cheek. "I promise I'll finish later."

And out of the home theatre lounge she went. "Not quite as easy as you think," Chuck muttered, keying the radio. "Guys, Sarah's on the way toward the flag."

"Fucking traitor," Casey growled.

"So very true," Chuck admitted. "On both counts."

"I hate you so much sometimes, Bartowski."

But a moment later, there was a series of pops, followed by a series of yelps that emanated from Sarah. A moment after that, she grumpily re-entered the home theatre lounge.

"You flipped on me," she growled.

Chuck shrugged. "Oh well."

"No more happy fun times for you, mister."

Chuck rolled his eyes, and then grabbed Sarah's wrist, pulling her down onto the couch. Before she realized what was going on, he had her in a lip lock, and his hand had found its way down the front of her pants.

"Where's your flag?"

"Never gonnnn… oh… never gonna te… Emerson record player, in the home audio section."

"Thank you," Chuck replied, standing up. "I'll finish later. I promise."

He turned to leave the home theatre lounge, but before he was out the door, seemed to have a thought. He turned around, crossed back to Sarah, and grabbed her radio off her ear.

"Spoilsport," she grumbled.

"Oh, you're just mad you didn't think to do it to me," Chuck replied with a laugh.

A moment later, there was a series of "Oh shits!" followed by a number of pops, a maniacal laugh that was definitely Chuck, and Chuck yelling, "SUCK IT, BITCHES!"

And the lights went on. Game over.

* * *

_Buy More e-mail message_

_DATE: Monday, February 22__nd__, 2010_

_TIME: 8:30 A.M._

_FROM: Michael Tucker, store manager_

_TO: All Burbank employees_

_SUBJECT: Improper use of store facilities_

_Alright, folks, let's cut the crap. There will be no further use of store facilities for… personal activities. I'm a little sick and tired of the store being trashed when I come in at 7:00 A.M._

_Here's the deal. Grimes, Bartowski, you wanna use the store as an arena for your stupid ass Airsoft games, fine. Just make sure you CLEAN EVERYTHING UP. But as far as anything else goes…_

_I swear to God, if I find one more condom wrapper in the break room or the home theatre lounge, somebody's ass is gettin' nailed to the exterior sign! I hope I make myself clear – GRIMES AND BARTOWSKI!_

_Michael "Big Mike" Tucker  
Store Manager, Buy More #1751_


End file.
